


A Sense of Something

by Silex



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcoholics Anonymous, Gen, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Slice of Life, Urban Fantasy, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22833676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: Mike would never forget his first meeting with Joseph, not Joe, as the well dressed, but more than a little disheveled, young man had made clear the moment he stepped in the door, he was Joseph, not Joe and he was an alcoholic.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	A Sense of Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlingargents](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/gifts).



> Just sneaking in a last minute treat for you because the prompt of "Sad Alcoholic Werewolf & His Increasingly Baffled But Supportive AA Sponsor" was was too fun an idea for me to resist. I hope you like it.

Mike would never forget his first meeting with Joseph, not Joe, as the well dressed, but more than a little disheveled, young man had made clear the moment he stepped in the door, he was Joseph, not Joe and he was an alcoholic. That was how he’d introduced himself ever since, at though it was his position in the meetings, the same as whatever position he held in whatever business he worked for. It was something important, Mike had gotten that impression, but Joseph never talked about his job, not when there was so much else he had to talk about.

That wasn’t what made him so memorable though, it was the way he’d scanned the room, wild-eyed and lost looking, like so many others at their first meeting, until he, seemingly by chance locked eyes with him.

As luck would have had it there was an empty chair next to Mike and Joseph had gone straight for it, meaning that Mike had been the first to get a variant of the ‘Joseph, not Joe’ greeting, but with one important addition that had stuck with him.

“I like the smell of you,” was the second thing that Joseph had said to him, putting him in an awkward position.

“It must be the aftershave I use,” Mike had said reflexively. He’d gotten in the habit of using it back before, when he’d still been drinking. He’d thought it helped hide the smell of alcohol on him. In his sobriety he’d never stopped using that brand of aftershave because he decided he liked it. Then, as an afterthought and because it was something he felt was a necessary clarification as Joseph might have been hitting on him, “I’m not gay though.”

Joseph blinked at him as though he’d preformed some amazing trick, “How did you know I was?”

“It was just a lucky guess,” Mike knew how awkward his first meeting had been, and hadn’t wanted to make things any worse for Joseph.

The young man still seemed impressed.

Joseph, gave a more full introduction to the group when his turn to do so came.

It was every bit as painful for him as it was for anyone else at their first meeting, right down to the point where he shakily said that he’d not drank that day with the desperate look of someone needed approval. There was something about the look in his eyes that made Mike think of a dog that wasn’t sure if it had done good or not and was waiting for either praise or condemnation.

The round of applause he got looked like it made him want to bolt for the door.

But he came to the next meeting the next day and the one after that and the one after that until he’d had a full week of meetings and his first full week of sobriety.

Each time he’d sit next to Mike if he was able so it was no surprise that he asked Mike to be his sponsor.

Mike agreed despite his misgivings. Joseph was so sincere in his request and came across as so determined that Mike didn’t want to risk Joseph’s sobriety over his own apprehension.

So when Joseph missed a meeting for the first time and didn’t pick up his phone when Mike called him, he feared the worst, only for an apologetic phone call to wake him up at the crack of dawn.

Joseph had been out all night with friends, friends who wouldn’t let him drink, he quickly amended, going on to say that they were the ones who’d forced him to start going to meetings at the threat of bodily harm. Then Joseph asked if Mike wanted coffee, his treat, since they were both up so early.

As though he hadn’t been the one to wake Mike up.

Mike agreed and seeing Joseph put him at ease. The man didn’t look like he’d been out all night drinking, though he did look tired, which lined up with his story of being out all night with friends.

Joseph had looked at him gravely over his cup of black coffee, “Alright, since we’re not at a meeting, I need to ask you…”

He stopped, looking this way and that.

Mike prepared himself, knowing exactly what the question was going to be. He’d even prepared an answer.

“In the twelve steps,” Joseph sounded embarrassed, “What’s with all the God and Higher Power talk? It’s all very church.”

“It’s about control,” Mike said. He’d never been someone’s sponsor before and he assumed that it was because he had a look to him that put people off, but when Joseph had broken the trend and picked him he’d made a bunch of phone calls to people he knew who had been, asking them for advice and what to expect and questions about the twelve steps had been a constant, so he’d looked over them in a way he hadn’t since his first meetings and really given thought about what they meant to him, “Or at least that’s how I see it. You might find your own way of looking at it through your own sobriety, but to me it’s control. With alcohol my life was out of control and I couldn’t fix things on my own. The problem was bigger than me, which is why I go to meetings. The god part is really less important than admitting that drinking is too big of a problem to manage on your own and that you need something bigger than yourself to manage.”

“I really get that,” Joseph nodded, “The out of control part.”

“A lot of people drop out of the program because they think they’ve been sober long enough that they’re fixed, but according to the twelve steps that’s not how it works,” Mike continued, “Drinking is tricky that way.”

Joseph blinked at him, “It’s not just drinking that’s tricky, but I hope I can be a better alcoholic than I’m what else I am. Those meetings are only once a month and I still wish I could miss them. It’s funny that everyday meetings aren’t as horrible as I expected them to be. Going to them forever though…”

Mike knew exactly what his next question was going to be, confirmation of something he already knew. It was the reason he assumed that Joseph had chosen him as a sponsor.

“How long have you been sober for again?”

“Eight years come August,” Mike said with some pride, “And I’ve been going to meetings daily when I can.”

“Each day for eight years,” Joseph sounded awed, “But I get that. The difference between something being under control and something being fixed. I’ve got too much in my life like that.”

“I have missed some meetings,” Mike said quickly, “More than some actually. No one’s perfect and missing one meeting isn’t a huge tragedy. There’ll be another one the next day.”

Joseph seemed lost in thought, either imagining the scope of eight years in a whole new way, or starting to come to terms with how sobriety was a long term process.

“Step five is a rough one,” Joseph said, seemingly to himself.

“Not really,” though Joseph wasn’t alone in that feeling. Mike had heard it countless times before and had himself missed the obvious until his own sponsor had pointed it out to him, “It’s the step a lot of people start on, even before they get to the first step. You start on it when you come to your first meeting.”

“There isn’t really an order to them then,” Joseph sounded bothered by the concept, “If they don’t work that way why are they numbered and called steps? ‘Twelve Bullet Points for Sobriety’ is more accurate, isn’t it?”

Mike didn’t have a good answer for that, but one of the other sponsors he’d talked to had a good way of putting it, “It’s kind of an organic thing. Some of the steps grow from each other, but it’s really about understanding and keeping them in mind. At any given time there’s probably a step you need to work on more.”

“I need to work on all of them,” Joseph said sullenly, “What about you though? After eight years you’ve got to have finished them all. What could possibly take that long to work on?”

It was a tough question to answer, not just because it changed day by day, but because it was difficult to admit to someone starting on their path to long term sobriety that it was a constant effort, “Four and ten. I don’t like admitting when I’m wrong and those steps don’t have to apply to just drinking.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” Joseph said wryly, “I have a few other things that probably need a twelve steps program, though I don’t think there are anonymous meetings for them.”

“You’d be surprised,” Mike offered, not sure of what else to say when Joseph was being so vague.

“I would,” he laughed, “I really, really would.”

“There are a lot of surprising things out there,” Mike said, “And a lot of people willing to help you if you need it.”

Joseph frowned thoughtfully, staring at his empty coffee cup, “Do you want another? This feels like it’s going to be a two coffee day.”

In that moment Mike got a strong feel for the kind of alcoholic Joseph might have been, and then dismissed the thought. Everyone was different, working towards the same goal. That was what he needed to stay focused on and help Joseph focus on when he needed it. Speculation and wondering about what Joseph was being vague about wouldn’t help either of them.

The next time Joseph missed a meeting he called Mike to explain that it had been because he’d been sick and didn’t want anyone to think that he’d been out drinking or anything like that.

He did look sick the next day, pale and tired as though he hadn’t slept at all.

He was otherwise so good at showing up for meetings, so adamant about his sobriety that Mike thought nothing of it.

“I’m working very hard on step one right now,” Joseph said quietly to him before the meeting started, “It occurred to me that being what happened last night was a sort of powerlessness and that got me thinking. I couldn’t will any of it not to happen or think myself out of it and that’s what my drinking was. Me trying to control things that I couldn’t and doing it the wrong way. It’s a lot to think about. I don’t like thinking about things that much, which also might be a problem.”

Sound logic, but there was one thing Mike wanted to point out, “Being an alcoholic isn’t like having food poisoning, you don’t get better to the point where you’ll be able to drink again, only this time in moderation. It’s something you live with for your whole life. That was what caused me to have my first relapse.”

Joseph seemed crestfallen at the revelation, then the pieces slowly fell into place, “First relapse? That makes it sound like there’s been more than one. So those eight years weren’t contiguous?”

“They were,” Mike guessed at the question Joseph was asking by context, “Before that there were three years where I managed for maybe four months at a stretch each time.”

Joseph blinked, “You? No!”

Mike nodded, not quite ashamed, not quite resigned. It was a part of his past and path to where he was now and it wasn’t anything to hide.

“Really?” Joseph shook his head, “You don’t look that old! But that’s eleven years all together and how long had you been drinking before then? I know you said that once, but I don’t remember.”

“We can talk after the meeting if you want,” Mike said, knowing that one question was bound to lead to another.

“I’d like that very much,” Joseph said with a faint smile, “We can go to a restaurant, my treat. It’ll be my first proper night out sober, a sort of test run. Yes, I think I like that.”

He sounded like he was talking himself up to it, but Mike knew, like so many other things, it was part of the process.

After the meeting ended Joseph waited patiently for Mike to have a few conversations with friends, share a few encouraging words with some of the newer attendees and agree to pet sit for a member of the group who was going on vacation in a few days.

Joseph looked impressed, though Mike couldn’t figure out why until the younger man spoke up.

“It’s really impressive, how many friends you have.”

Mike shrugged, “You’ve got to talk to people. It’s all part of the process.”

“I know, I know,” Joseph looked away sheepishly, “I really need to do a better job of talking to people here, getting their numbers at least, so I have more people to talk to, but I’m bad at that kind of thing. I don’t make friends easily.”

“You’ve got friends outside of here,” Mike reminded, only for Joseph to shake his head.

“No, that’s not the same at all,” he sounded frustrated in a way that Mike was familiar with, “They’re not the kind of friends you get from meetings like these and they’re not helpful with what I’m going through. As an alcoholic. Everything else I guess they’re helpful, but not _everything_ , everything.”

“Ah, you feel like you need to find new friends?” It was a situation that Mike had been through himself, one of the reasons one of his first attempts at getting sober hadn’t gone as well as it could have. When you and your friends got together to drink and you didn’t drink you tended to drift away from those friends.

Or start telling yourself that one drink once a week wouldn’t hurt anyone. But it was never just one drink or one night.

“Oh no,” Joseph grew defensive, “My friends are fine. We don’t drink, there’s not time for that when we meet up, it’s that…It’s complicated and I’d like to have more uncomplicated friends. Normal people as it were. Like the people here.”

“You can tell me about your friends and we can make plans to help you make more normal friends over a burger and fries,” Mike suggested.

Joseph looked dismayed, “A burger and fries? I was thinking sushi. Have you ever had sushi?”

Mike shook his head. Raw fish had never sounded appealing to him, especially with how much sushi cost in the grocery store. If he was going to pay that much for something it at least should have come cooked.

“Tonight you get to try it for the first time,” Joseph said brightly, “There’s a surprisingly good restaurant just down the block from here. Don’t let the name or the décor fool you. It’s really good.”

Which was how less than a half hour later they were sitting down in a place that looked like a recently renovated and repainted warehouse, waiting for their orders to arrive at the table. Joseph had taken care of ordering for them, the majority of the menu a combination of unpronounceable and indecipherable as far as Mike was concerned. Fortunately Joseph seemed to eat sushi often enough that he had favorites and had barely glanced at the menu.

Either that or he was really good at feigning knowing what he was doing.

While they waited for their food, which was taking surprisingly long given that it didn’t need to be cooked, they talked.

“I started early,” Mike said, to answer Joseph’s earlier question, “My dad liked to make his own wine and I started sneaking sips when I was thirteen.”

“I miss wine,” Joseph said with great sincerity, “Scotch too. The hangovers though, I don’t miss those so I guess it’s good and bad. How long until I’m like you and don’t miss it?”

Mike smiled, “I wouldn’t know. I’m not there yet.”

“Of course,” Joseph sighed, “Yet another thing that doesn’t stop or get easier exactly, you just get used to it. It’s stupid, but that makes me feel better actually. I won’t be waiting for something that’s not going to happen so I can just put it away. Keep things neatly organized.”

“That’s life,” Mike agreed, “You keep everything in order as best as you can and get help when you need to.”

Joseph nodded thoughtfully, moving his cup of tea back and forth across the table without taking a sip, “Do you want to know why I started drinking?”

Mike hadn’t, that part of other people’s lives had never fascinated him and he knew that people drank for countless reasons, or no reason at all. There was rarely a neat, clean answer. For him, if he’d needed to give an answer, it was that, like Mount Everest, drinking had just been there, but he could tell that Joseph wanted to say something, “If you want to share you can.”

Joseph obviously did. He smiled, “I started drinking because it felt like a normal thing to do. Normal people go out drinking so going out drinking felt like a way to meet normal people.”

During meetings you didn’t interrupt, but this wasn’t a meeting and it was something Mike really wanted to know.

“What do you mean by normal? You brought that up before and I want to be on the same page.”

“Oh, you know, normal,” Joseph blinked, “You see, this is what I’m talking about. I’m very bad at normal. Drinking though, when I drank I felt normal. Until I got blackout drunk for the first time and then I panicked. It wasn’t the first time I’d experienced that sort of thing, but it was different. I couldn’t figure out what happened, but I knew what hadn’t happened. I never got that missing time back, but nothing bad happened as far as I know and the next time it wasn’t as frightening. It was just a thing that happened and the really amazing thing was that it felt like a way out. If I was having a bad day there was no need to wait for the next day and hope that it might be better. I could drink and then presto, it was already the next day. Or later even. Yes I might be miserable, passed out somewhere that wasn’t my bed, but I was putting distance between myself and whatever bothered me. It was much easier than being angry. I’ve always been afraid of hurting someone when I get angry.”

That last bit was kind of a relief. Joseph still hadn’t answered what he meant by normal people, but with how odd he could be Mike had been worried that he was a serial killer of something, except a serial killer wouldn’t be worried about hurting someone accidentally.

The arrival of their food immediately caused a shift in conversation with Mike needing to ask exactly what the breaded and fried thing that Joseph had ordered for them was.

Joseph spent the rest of the meal carefully explaining what was on each plate and instructing Mike in the finer points of chopstick use until the waiter came to the rescue with a fork.

Mike was willing to admit that sushi, at least the pieces he was brave enough to try, wasn’t actually that bad. Not a thing that he’d ever do again, but it was an interesting experience.

The same could be said for Joseph though, that he was an interesting experience.

The thought came back to him when Joseph called him a few days later to mention that he’d be missing an upcoming meeting.

Mike penned it down on the calendar and they talked about nothing of any importance for a while.

Phone calls with Joseph were always interesting because of how excessively formal the man could be. It made Mike wonder about what Joseph did for a living, obviously something that paid well given that the man had fondness for expensive suits and occasionally made off handed comments that implied he had money to spare.

At the same time, he didn’t flaunt it, though he didn’t exactly try to hide it either. Like a lot of the men and women Mike had met through Alcoholics Anonymous over the years Joseph had things he did and didn’t want to talk about.

“I need normal hobbies,” Joseph said despondently over the phone, “Something to take the place of drinking.”

“You could try working out,” Mike suggested, thinking of his own rather neglected gym membership, “Half a dozen of the people from our meeting are members at one of the local gyms.”

Joseph made a small noise of disgust, “I don’t like getting dirty or sweaty if I can avoid it. There are exceptions of course, but not for no reason.”

“The local church has a quilting bee every Friday. It’s surprisingly fun.”

A long pause, then Joseph let out a careful little laugh, “You’re joking, right. I cannot imagine you sitting down with a bunch of blue haired old church ladies and sewing.”

“A few times a year I help out, mostly around the holidays and when they’re doing something for charity.”

“No,” Joseph sighed, “My imagination’s not good enough for that. I just can’t see you doing that. I think I’m just going to assume that you’re joking.”

It was a funny thing for him to say, because Joseph had a fine imagination at the meetings, or at least a clever way with words when he got the chance to speak or ask questions about something.

“If it’s about trying something new you need to try things you couldn’t imagine doing,” Mike spoke from experience there. He’d found that finding things to do other than drinking had been helpful during his first months of sobriety. At first it had been about finding distractions, but eventually he figured out which of those distractions were actually fun. He was still looking to give away a closet of art supplies from his on and off picking up of painting classes, “Start writing ideas down, make a list and if you want bring it to the next meeting, talk about it and see what other people suggest.”

There was a long silence, followed by what Mike assumed was a thoughtful noise.

“Maybe,” Joseph said at last, “Writing might be fun. But I can’t start tonight, not when I’m so restless that I can hardly sit down.”

“Are you okay? If there’s something you want to talk about –”

“You have no idea,” Joseph cut him off, “Next week there’s a big meeting coming up and I did not need the stress right now. I’m not a kid getting caught off guard by this all the time, I plan things out a year in advance, at least I do that when I can, and this didn’t sneak up on me. This sort of thing does not sneak. It’s just that I want to reschedule it all to next month, or the month after. Or next year. There are representatives coming down from Canada and I swear if that one haughty bitch shows up I… I really shouldn’t be saying any of this to you so please don’t tell anyone, but if she shows up again I swear it’ll be a mess. She comes looking for a fight and there are too many people who want to provide.”

Then they went back to talking about nothing in particular, leaving Mike to wonder that if Joseph wasn’t a serial killer then he might have been a mob hitman or something. Joseph did have a temper, Mike had seen hints of it once or twice, and it would explain his money and mysterious cluelessness about ‘normal people’.

Or he might just have been a rich young eccentric, driven to drink by the stress of his job, which was far more likely and less interesting. Joseph wasn’t the only one with an imagination.

A few minutes after Joseph hung up Mike got a text from him.

_Step six is miserable by the way._

Everyone was entitled to their own opinion and that was one where Mike wasn’t going to argue.

Accepting Joseph’s peculiarities became routine right up until Mike got the phone call he’d been dreading.

It was late, but not too late. Just at the point in the evening where it was easy to imagine someone being just a little careless and losing track of the time, or a worst case situation.

From how shook up Joseph sounded it was a worst case situation.

“I did a stupid thing and I need to talk to you,” Joseph’s voice came breathlessly across the phone, “I walked past this bar. A place I used to go to, back when I was drinking.”

Mike had made the same mistake, the exact same mistake and so had so many other members of their group. It was one of the things that new attendees were warned of and it was a mistake made constantly.

“That’s not the end of the world,” Mike reassured, not wanting to direct the conversation in one way or another. It was important for Joseph to handle it on his own, in his own way. Mike could help as best as he could, but it was something that Joseph needed to figure out for himself.

“I walked it, not to get a drink, but because it was a place I used to go,” the pleading tone in Joseph’s voice was blatant. He wasn’t trying to convince Mike of anything, but himself. It was a place Mike had been plenty of times before, “I went in and that was a mistake. I recognized people there and they _recognized_ me.”

“And they suggested that you sit down and join them,” Mike finished for him, because he could tell that Joseph wanted him to say something, to make the whole confession easier. A dress rehearsal for the meeting tomorrow, though Mike would remind him that saying everything in front of everyone wasn’t necessary. He only had to if he wanted.

“I did,” Joseph agreed, “You see, you’re smart. You know these kind of things while I get surprised by them. Well, one of them offered to buy a round for old time’s sake and I was refusing when the worst coincidence happened. Another friend of mine, one who’s in the group that gave me the ultimatum about sobering up walked in and saw me.”

“That’s good though,” Mike said, “Seeing him stopped you from drinking.”

“You can say that again,” Joseph laughed frantically, “He grabbed me and dragged me out of there so fast that I think I might have whiplash from it. He could tell that I wasn’t lying about not drinking that night, but he didn’t believe that I’d stopped and he kept pushing and pushing. I really thought he might do me harm. He was that mad.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t really,” Mike said quickly, again imagining Joseph’s possible, but unlikely, mafia connections. There was no reason for him to think that was real, but there was so little he knew about the man that it was impossible for him not to start filling in the blanks.

“You don’t know my other friends, which is a good thing,” Joseph said quickly, “But he asked where I’d been, what I’d really been doing and I tried to explain. I told him that I had new hobbies, that I was making other friends, but he could tell I was only telling half the story and he wasn’t buying any of it. People like him have good reason to be suspicious and he wasn’t going to relent until he got answers. So I might have told him things. I tried to be careful, but I think I broke it.”

“Broke what?” Mike said, not sure where things were going, and afraid for it.

“The masquerade! I told him all about AA, the meetings and that I’ve got a sponsor. I didn’t say where or name you of course. And then I…”

There was a long silence.

Very long and awkward as Mike tried to figure out what he’d just heard.

“And I just realized how stupid I sound. You know how I said step five is rough for me? I’ve gotten so used to keeping things compartmentalized, that there are different types of friends and acquaintances and they need to be kept separate and AA meetings are so much of a thing with all of their confidentiality and how what’s said during them doesn’t leave the room. Talking about you and the meetings kind of hit the same thing as talking about other things, but it’s fine to talk about being an alcoholic with people. Normal people are alcoholics,” Joseph sighed, “I can tell my friends that I’m an alcoholic.”

“Yes,” Mike agreed, “You can. No need to be embarrassed about it, though maybe you need a new group of friends if you’re that upset about what happened.”

Whatever it was that happened. He was still trying to figure out that.

When Joseph stayed quiet Mike tried to pick up the conversation to make things a little less awkward, “So what were you worried about? You said the masquerade and I’ve got no idea what that even is.”

“Oh,” Joseph said flatly, “It’s an illusion. Of normalcy I guess. You know, we go to our little meetings, but otherwise we’re just normal people. Not alcoholics as far as anyone can tell, we don’t have secret handshakes, wear special colors or drink at special bars. Or not drink I guess. We don’t have special clubs where we hang out and don’t drink would be a way of putting it? Except AA meetings are kind of a club where we go to not drink and do alcoholic things that normal people don’t do. And joining AA means that the masquerade is over, doesn’t it? That I’m not pretending that I’m not an alcoholic and that I don’t have a drinking problem.”

He was still wound up, Mike could tell that much, but it seemed that talking was helping, letting him make sense of things for himself, even if Mike couldn’t follow it, “That’s what the meetings are for.”

“It’s silly, but making a mistake like that’s always been my biggest fear, which is why I wasn’t thinking. Admitting that I’m, well, admitting in general is frightening to me. Which has me thinking,” Joseph’s voice fell to a sheepish mutter, “Can we talk about step seven? Is there a trick to making that easier? Because seeing my friend like that and what I said – I realize that I’ve got a lot of explaining to do and I don’t even know where to start. The one time I showed up drunk and didn’t sober up in time…They had to do a lot of damage control for me and I really should apologize.”

“That’s where you should start then,” Mike suggested, “An apology can just be itself.”

“Apologies are lucky that way,” Joseph said bitterly.

Mike still had no idea what had happened, what had Joseph so upset, but he was starting to get the feeling that the young man had many mysteries that he might never find the answers to. It didn’t bother him though. His position wasn’t to figure Joseph out, just to help him along on his sobriety.


End file.
